


Forgiveness

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-31 20:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: Al has a chance to face the people who shaped his life, but will he return again or is this it for him?





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in Angel and the Dreamer #2.

Al Calavicci wasn't sure what was going on, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The world was tilted crazily, upside down and inside out. He felt fuzzy and disoriented, detached from his body and floating through a river of thick, murky confusion. He was looking at the world from a haze of white gauze, blurring the edges of perception.

Slowly, his vision began to clear. He was sitting on the back porch of a ram-shackled house, leaning against the railing. He could feel the wood against his back, the roughness of age abrasive through his light cotton shirt. Beside him, the battered old rocker his father was sitting in was moving slowly back and forth, creaking in time to its movements.

Al tried to remember what he was doing there, how he'd gotten there, but he couldn't. Every time he reached out to the answer, it fled into the recesses of his mind. He gave up trying and just sat, watching his father rock, both of them keeping their companionable silence. Time passed unmarked. Then, slowly, knowledge filtered into his mind. He figured out what was so strange about the situation he was in.

And was silent still, absorbing that. Oddly, he felt calm, undisturbed by the reality of where he was...and why. He looked at his father with new understanding, knowing now why he was here.

"It's good to see you again, son," the elder Calavicci broke the silence as if on some inner cue.

A response was expected, but faced with the concept of a warm reunion, Al's voice turned traitor. "You were wrong!" he suddenly burst out, emotions long held in check flowing out carelessly. "You told me everything would be okay if I prayed for you! It wasn't! Why did you tell me that?" he demanded, pain almost blinding him. He wanted something, needed it, but he was unsure of what it was.

His father gazed into some far off horizon. "I was scared. What good would it have done to scare you, too? You needed something to keep you strong."

"Strong? I was only a kid!" Al forced the tears back, refusing to let them gather in his eyes. "Do you know what you did?! I decided God was a lie after that," he continued in unrelenting bitterness. "Knowing that if He wasn't a lie, then he'd deserted me too, just like everyone else."

"You're stronger than I ever was, then either of us ever were," his father said, undisturbed by the outburst.

Al's voice dropped almost to a whisper. "You wanted me strong? Well, I was so strong I crawled into a bottle and almost didn't make it out."

"But you did."

"I was weak," Al began harshly, his voice moderating as he continued, the memories demanding acknowledgment. "...until Sam came along. He made me realize how strong I really am. Everybody left me," he ground out angrily. "Everyone except...Sam." He folded his arms over his knees, head bowed. "Do you know about Sam?" he asked, hesitancy and defiance combined.

"Just because I'm dead, don't mean I'm all-knowing."

"You'll find out about him eventually anyway," Al decided aloud. A part of him could appreciate the incongruity of the situation. He never would have imagined himself telling his father about Sam. "I love him more than my own life," he said quietly. Suddenly, he missed Sam with an intensity that was overwhelming. He looked up sideways at his father. "He's...a part of me. The best part. If I'm here for confession, there it is."

"You obviously think that's what you're here for," his father commented mildly.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Pop? About how it is between Sam and me?" This was the most bizarre conversation he could ever remember having. He'd never bothered contemplating what his father might think of their relationship. Now here he was. Either dead or dreaming, living out this very weird scenario.

"I got the idea," his father answered. "Now that you've confessed, what do you want? Forgiveness? To do penance? Maybe I should have you say fifty hail Mary's?"

Al's hackles were raised. "I don't want or need your forgiveness! We love each other, and I'm proud of it. Love isn't a sin."

His father seemed pleased by his reaction. "You're right, Al. Just like I don't need your forgiveness for 'dying and leaving you', or for not being perfect. I did the best I could."

Al opened his mouth to speak, closed it again. He heard what his father was saying, but another, more pressing thought intruded. "Am I dead?" he finally whispered. "I can't leave Sam," he said, tears starting down his cheek. He jumped up and gripped his father's arms tightly. "Not yet. I don't care if it's not my fault...I can't!"

To his surprise, Al found himself in his fathers arms, being held. He hadn't even remembered what it felt like. Now, all the old, buried feelings came rushing back. He felt ten years old again.

His father held him and murmured quietly. "I don't pretend to understand all the ways life has changed since I was young, and I never will. But it's no place for me to tell you how to live your life. Not now, not after what you've been through. I don't have the right. You're a grown man, and you gotta do what's right for you."

An acceptance, but not necessarily an approval.

"It's not me you need that from," his father said as if reading his thoughts.

"Sam's the only thing that's ever been right in my life," Al said. And slowly, in his father's comforting embrace, he let the tears come.

XXX

Al stared at the woman before him. He knew who she was. She was a lot older than the last time he'd seen her, to be sure, but he instinctively recognized her.

"So, you're dead," he said conversationally. There was nothing in his soul for this old woman, especially not forgiveness. He knew it was probably wrong, but the pain of abandonment had never faded. Even if he knew intellectual forgiveness, the emotions of a small boy wouldn't let him forget.

"You've become a very handsome man," his mother said with a faint smile.

"Yes, and Trudy just became very dead," he replied icily. Then, something in him leaped in joy -- the one good thing about this was the possibility of seeing his sister again. He shifted from foot to foot impatiently, wanting to be with her rather than here. But apparently he wasn't controlling these things himself, because he stayed where he was.

"I thought you'd be better off without me," his mother said.

"Whoops," Al sang spitefully, noting her flinch with something like elation. He realized, with a brief touch of shame, that he was enjoying this confrontation. He'd had a lot of buried hostilities for a lot of years.

"I made my decision, and you aren't going to make me beg your forgiveness," she told him. "You'd never believe how much sorrow I feel for how things turned out. But if I'd stayed, things would have been just as bad. I expected your father would re-marry, that things would be--"

"Bullshit!" Al spat with loathing. "You were a coward, and you still are. You knew it wouldn't be easy for Pop to re-marry with two young children, dirt poor--and one of them retarded. You knew."

"All right!" his mother shrieked. "I failed. I couldn't cope. I was sixteen when I got pregnant with you," she began. "By the time I was eighteen I found myself in a two-room shack with two children and a man who was always out of work. I'd never even lived. And when I realized I'd be caring for an infant for the rest of my life...I panicked."

As she continued, Al wondered why he didn't interrupt her. He wanted to, he didn't care about her meaningless words...but found he couldn't.

"When my chance to escape came, I took it. I was weak, I couldn't have survived like that. Would you rather I have stayed and started beating on the two of you?!"

"I hear what you're saying," Al told her. "But it doesn't change how it feels to be abandoned by your own mother."

"Did you ever hear about your grandfather?" she asked, glancing away. Al wondered if she watched the same horizon his father had. For Al, it was all hazy snow. "He used to take me out to the woodshed and beat me with a leather strap until I had welts, if he figured I misbehaved. I'd lay awake at night, wishing he'd desert us. Praying he'd drop dead and be gone from my life for good. We all do what we have to do."

"Yes," Al agreed, and started walking away.

"I did love you, all of you," her faint voice followed him through the mist.

Al knew he was supposed to forgive, have a big tearful reunion. But he couldn't find it in himself. His mother had repented, and he couldn't accept it. He wondered if that meant he'd blown his chance at going to heaven...if there was such a place. But he couldn't help it, he wasn't ready to deal with those things. He hadn't even realized how much anger he still felt toward her until he'd seen her again. He'd been under the impression that he'd understood a woman's desperation. He'd said it, told Sam on a number of occasions. And he'd talked himself into believing it.

But it still hurt.

XXX

She was in a meadow, running among the dandelions and laughing. The sight of her wrenched Al's heart, and those tears he'd fought back earlier came pouring down his face without hesitation.

He called to her, and fell to his knees. Opening his arms, he watched as she happily came to him. Enfolding her, he hugged her to him fiercely.

"Oh Trudy," Al murmured. "I've missed you so much, baby." He kissed her cheek, stroked her soft hair. "I wanted to come and get you, you know that, don't you? I tried to come back for you." His tears increased with his anguish. "I tried, honey. God, I tried!" He raised his tear-streaked face to the sky, silently cursing out the Lord, even though he knew it probably wouldn't go well for him at this point. He didn't care. As long as his loved ones were safe and at peace, he didn't care what happened to him.

"I tried to come for you," he repeated. "I was too late. I'm so sorry, I was too late... I love you, Trudy," he whispered into her ear. He knew that in some part of her heart, she understood and forgave him.

Laughing, Trudy squirmed out of his grasp, to run among the flowers again. He watched for a moment, then closed his eyes. Something nagged at him though, about not caring what happened to him as long as his loved ones were...

XXX

This time he saw Sam. He had tears in his eyes and looked scared and desolate. A sudden suspicion slammed into Al, and he felt the pain throughout his soul. Not Sam, not in this place of the dead...

"Sam!" he cried, grabbing the arms that tried to hold him back with all his strength. "No!!" he tried to yell, it came out as a brittle croak. "You can't be here!"

"Al!" Sam called. "It's all right. Al, it's going to be okay. You're going to be okay!"

Feeling the warmth of the arms holding him, Al looked around, finally realizing he was in a hospital room. Sam was at his bedside. He slumped back against the pillows in relief.

"Do you remember what happened?" Sam asked quietly. When Al didn't answer, he continued. "You were in an accident. It was a drunk driver..."

"You mean there was a drunk driver and it wasn't me?" Al quipped, trying to lift the shadows from Sam's face.

"If I ever catch you driving drunk," Sam began, his eyes filling.

"Hey..." Al reached a hand out, touching Sam's arm. "I was only trying to lighten the mood. Those days are long over," he assured.

Sam subsided, laying his head down on Al's chest. Al was soothed by the close presence of the man he loved, by his hand caressing through Sam's hair.

And he thought about the dream. Was it a dream? He'd always been skeptical of the stories of near-death experiences...but theory tended to be different from reality when you were face to face with the prospect.

Just like a man who'd sworn renouncement of God could find himself praying real quick if he was in dire danger...or if someone he loved was.

Al had been given another chance, and he couldn't blow this one. Because he now knew that neither of them would rest in peace if he didn't go to the same place Sam did...and he knew without a doubt where Sam was going. Because they couldn't be separated. Not even in death.

Al gazed down at the still head, remembering his fear that Sam had joined him on the other side. It instigated another one. Would Sam ever...

"Sam..." he began.

The head lifted, relieved eyes locking with his. Sam waited for him to continue.

_Would he follow me? _Al opened his mouth. Closed it again. He didn't want to know. At least not here, not now. Maybe someday they'd have to face those questions together.

Al framed the beloved face with his hands. "I love you." Sam smiled at him.

Someday. But not now.

**the end**

7/27/94


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